


it's nice to have a friend

by Livelysky



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Park Jisung (NCT) is Whipped, best friends to lovers to exes to lovers, jeno is in liberal arts for personal reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26868910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livelysky/pseuds/Livelysky
Summary: Something in Jisung’s chest skipped, scampered, and jumped off a cliff. ‘Babe?’ That was certainly a new one. Jaemin hyung’s influence, he guessed. A term of endearment. Nothing more.Jisung hummed, eager not to let the silence persist. “Twenty questions?” he suggested, naming a game they’d been playing for years to figure out if the other was okay.Jeno smiled, which Jisung took as a yes.“You’ve been stressed out lately, haven’t you? Are you okay, hyung?”
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Park Jisung
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65





	it's nice to have a friend

**Author's Note:**

> **warning** for mentions of addiction and underage drinking

Jisung had always been obsessed with the lights in Jeno’s bedroom. The twinkling yellow strings reminded him of the treehouse they’d built as kids. He missed the glow-in-the-dark stars that used to decorate the treehouse walls. He missed passing Jeno notes while they read fantasy novels together. 

Still, the bedroom was close to perfect. For one, the temperature in Jeno’s room was always amazing, the combination of speeds of air conditioning and ceiling fan giving them enough of a cool breeze to battle California’s unforgiving summer heat. The treehouse had done nothing to save them from that. Soft music always played from Jeno’s record player in the corner, even when they were asleep. Jisung had teased Jeno mercilessly for the record player, calling Jeno a pretentious old man as he waved around his own phone loaded with various Spotify playlists. Secretly, though, he loved it. The indie music often permeated Jisung’s subconscious and featured in his dreams. 

Tonight was a sleepover that was welcoming the summer, welcoming the break from the hellscape known as high school. They’d eaten Jeno’s mom’s famous lasagna and attempted to watch a horror movie for about nine minutes before switching to _Notting Hill._

Jisung and Jeno didn’t get to spend much time together during the school year. Jeno was a senior, and was busy with parties when he wasn’t busy with assignments, student council, and college applications. Jisung was a sophomore and he still couldn’t even talk to girls, much less join clubs or sports teams. All he did was dance, and he only did that with permission from his coach to use the dance studios after school. 

He didn’t blame Jeno - they were neighbours, childhood friends, and practically family. They had their own equation, one Jisung had always been at ease with. One he’d never had to feel uncomfortable about before. 

Why, then, was his chest hammering this way right now?

It was around 3 a.m, Jisung guessed, judging by the silence and Jeno’s dozing. They’d had sleepovers thousands of times, more than Jisung could bother counting. Today’s had started like every other one, with Jisung waiting at the school bus stop and Jeno arriving with a grin. 

_“Autumn boy,” he said fondly, ruffling Jisung’s newly-dyed orange hair. “It’s almost summer, Jisungie. You mixed up your seasons.”_

_“Well I’m not dyeing my hair green. That’s Chenle’s job.”_

_Church bells rang in the distance, signalling the arrival of dusk with the orange-pink sky._

_Jisung tried to jump on Jeno’s back, his lanky legs grazing the street even when he tried to wrap them around Jeno’s waist._

_Jeno grunted, nearly toppling them both over._

_“You’re getting way too heavy for this.”_

_Jisung laughed, jumping off. “Whatever, man. Maybe you’re just getting old.”_

_Jeno quirked an eyebrow, putting a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. “After all the times I’ve had your back? Give me a break, babe.”_

_Something in Jisung’s chest skipped, scampered, and jumped off a cliff. ‘Babe?’ That was certainly a new one. Jaemin hyung’s influence, he guessed. A term of endearment. Nothing more._

_Jisung hummed, eager not to let the silence persist. “Twenty questions?” he suggested, naming a game they’d been playing for years to figure out if the other was okay._

_Jeno smiled, which Jisung took as a yes._

_“You’ve been stressed out lately, haven’t you? Are you okay, hyung?”_

_Jeno sighed a little. “Yeah. I’m okay, Jisungie. This year’s just been… a lot.”_

_Jisung knew. Jeno had been the perfect one for so long. Student body president. Dance team captain. Straight-A Student. GSA leader. His parents, the school, his classmates - everyone needed him to be nothing less. Jisung felt like he would crumble like an old ruin if he ever had to take on half of that responsibility._

_“I know, hyung. Me too. I’ve been… stressed out, too,”_

_Jeno eyed him, and understanding flashed in his eyes. He’d been there, after all, when Jisung’s dad went to rehab for the first time. And the second. When Jisung had stayed up crying half the night._

_Jeno didn’t say anything about it right now, but he hesitantly extended his arm, his fingers slowly linking with Jisung’s._

_There it was again. The feeling in his chest. A stone flying in an arc and falling into a chasm. He blinked slowly, his nerves on fire, but he didn’t let go._

They’d held hands the entire way home, and then let go without a word when Jeno’s mom rushed out to hug Jisung. But it had stayed on his mind - throughout dinner, and the movie, and all the conversation. 

Now, lying awake and staring at the starless ceiling, Jisung’s heartbeat would not calm down. ‘Babe,’ he could take, maybe, if it wasn’t immediately followed up by fucking hand-holding. Who did Jeno think he was? 

They were friends, they had always been friends. And it was nice. Their families had held barbecues together where Jisung chased Jeno with a leaky bottle of sauce. They’d had study dates where Jeno helped Jisung with math and physics. They’d gone to dance practice together. They did things friends do, but they didn’t do… this. 

And yet. 

And yet, Jisung knew what he felt when he looked at Jeno. 

At first he’d thought, ‘it's puberty, and I think I like guys, and Jeno hyung is objectively hot, and I’m just thinking with my dick.’

Then he’d thought, ‘You’re close, he’s your best friend, it makes sense for you to be confused.’

Then he’d thought, ‘We both came out to our parents and it went well and now they want us to be together so you’re indulging the thought.’

Now… he was running out of excuses. No excuses explained the fire in his blood when he touched Jeno’s hand. 

He gazed at Jeno’s sleeping face, feeling a little creepy. Fuck, he was beautiful. Ugh, Jisung was in so deep. Why - when- had he let this happen?

“I’m trying to sleep, Edward Cullen,” Jeno murmured, startling Jisung into jumping a foot in the air and hissing, “ _Fuck,_ hyung” 

Jeno opened his eyes and grinned, his eyebrows arching. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

He spoke softly, because it was the middle of night, but probably also because he knew something was wrong. 

Jisung’s pulse was erratic as he stared at Jeno, their faces alarmingly close, and his gaze dropped to Jeno’s lips. 

Stupid move. 

Jeno’s smile faded, replaced by a look that was terrifyingly unreadable. 

Their eyes met, and Jisung knew he understood. 

His emotions clashed - black and purple shame and terror, and out of nowhere, a thin gold streak of excited, reckless bravery. It was that feeling of invincibility that seemed exclusive to three a.m. Feeling like a fool, he whispered, “Why’d you hold my hand, hyung?”

Jeno blinked, slowly. “Because I wanted to,” he whispered back. “Should I be sorry?”

“No,” Jisung replied. “I liked it.”

Jeno didn’t respond to that, but he lifted his hand, torturously slow. He put it in Jisung’s hair, and when Jisung’s didn’t back away, he leaned forward. 

There was a Wallows song blaring softly from the record player as they kissed, and Jisung felt like he was in a fucking movie. 

_But… but we’re friends,_ the voice in his head said, shocked. 

Jisung shut it up by kissing Jeno again. 

***

Jeno thought about that first kiss a lot.  
Even now.  
_Especially now._

Maybe it wasn’t fair of him. He’d been the one to break it off, after all. But it wasn’t his fault a lot of things still reminded him of Jisung. In the party he was currently at, for example, string lights were draped over every available surface, bravely staying on despite the combinations of beverages spilling over them. Bad pop music blared from the speaker systems. He missed his record player. Jisung would’ve teased him for that. 

They’d lasted almost an entire year of university, though it hadn’t been easy. 

Jeno remembered when he first got in. It had always been unspoken between them, the fact that he would be leaving in a year. They’d had a perfect high school romance, and Jeno couldn’t - or didn’t want to- imagine it ending. They did a pretty good job of ignoring it… until the acceptance letter arrived. 

He was deliriously happy. A liberal arts degree in New York was everything he’d dreamt of his entire high school career. He’d worked his ass off. And yet… there was something bitter that stayed in his mouth after the ecstasy faded. His mother shot him a sympathetic look, like she knew exactly was on his mind. 

That night, he walked to the beach with Jisung. He was being quieter than usual, he knew. Jisung had noticed immediately, and grabbed Jeno’s hand. “Twenty questions?” he asked, quietly. 

Jeno took a breath. “I got in.” 

Jisung stared at him. “Oh,” he breathed. For a heartbeat, he didn’t speak. Then he smiled a heartbreaking smile and whispered “congratulations, hyung,” and he leaned in. When he kissed Jeno soft and long, it tasted dangerously close to goodbye. 

Jeno refused to let it be goodbye. “It’s us, Jisungie. We got this,” he promised in the airport. Jisung’s lower lip quivered when he leaned in to hug Jeno wordlessly. 

The first semester was terrifying and exciting at once. Jeno made new friends. He met his new roommate, a handsome New Yorker named Mark. He got used to the odd class schedule and went to frat parties hosted by the school’s most popular couple, Johnny and Jaehyun. Donghyuck, a boy across the hall, offered Jeno his roommate’s beer and became his friend before they finished the six pack. The aforementioned roommate, Renjun, smacked Donghyuck lightly on the head and then introduced themself to Jeno with an angelic smile.

He was out, and proud of it. It was a strange feeling, being seen for who he was while also just being another body in a huge crowd. Another queer liberal arts student in New York City, what will he do? He embraced it. Every free second of his day, he texted Jisung. The time difference and Jisung being a junior in high school meant they rarely had the time for long phone calls, but they made it work. 

Jeno would rant to Jisung about the MoMA and Jisung would indulge him. He would video call Jisung from Central Park and they pretended they were having a picnic in person instead of over shitty 3G FaceTime. Jisung would tell him about whatever antics he’d pulled lately with Chenle. He would tell him about how his mom asked him constantly if Jeno was eating enough. It was full of yearning and frustration, but it was still good. It was still them. 

Jeno went back for winter break (if you could even call it winter in California). He was disappointed to leave behind New York’s snow, but he spent the entire break eating his mom’s food and kissing Jisung, and well. That made up for it. 

The second semester was harder. Jeno got a job in the university cafe and made more friends. Mark became an ever-present figure of friendship, walking Jeno to his classes and to meals. They took turns being each other’s alarm clocks on weekdays and each other’s sober (well, less drunk) friend on alternate weekends. Hendery, a boy who looked like a fairy, worked with him at the cafe. So did Lucas, who flirted with Mark and got Hendery and Jeno to cover for him every other shift. 

School work got more intense, too. Jeno learned an alarming number of academic terms in a very short timespan. The memes about lecturers being chilled out were, in fact, blatant lies. They treated the students like adults, which was both gratifying and horribly difficult, since it meant Jeno had to spend every evening in the library to catch up on each day’s readings and to accurately decipher his own hurriedly scrawled notes. 

Jisung began leaving him voicemails instead of texts, because of Jeno’s poor replying skills. Jeno would call back hours later, only to find Jisung busy with homework or hanging out with Chenle and Jaemin, who’d stayed in San Diego for his gap year. He’d spend the nights after their fights sulking in his room until Mark would get tired and drag him out to the riverside, or to bars where they ate copious amounts of fried food instead of drinking (like responsible young men), or just across to Donghyuck’s room, where he’d silently put on a movie while Renjun patted his hair. Jeno was grateful for his friends, but he missed Jisung like a missing piece of his chest. 

Over summer break, they clashed like comets in their desperate mix of dormant anger and longing desire. They fought and cried and hooked up and made up. In their last fight before Jeno left again, Jisung had said, “you were the one who wanted this.”

“I didn’t say it was going to be easy!” Jeno had snapped. 

“You didn’t say it’d be this damn hard either.”

“So what, you want to break up?”

Jisung’s expression had fallen and he’d cradled Jeno’s face. “No, you big idiot. I want the opposite.”

Jeno’s anger had deflated too, and he leaned his forehead against Jisung’s. He said I love you, and Jisung said he loved him too. And then he said he hoped that was enough. 

As it turned out, it wasn’t. They broke up in the middle of Jeno’s third semester, in a screaming match over video call. Jeno had said “I can’t do this,” and Jisung had said, “then fucking don’t.”

So here he was, in a party in a frat house, his plans to surprise Jisung over winter and his heart, both shattered. He hadn’t wanted the bother of sneaking into a club - the thought of an unfamiliar sea of twenty-something strangers grinding around him made him feel raw and terrified anyway. He ached for familiarity as much as he ached for distraction and noise. So he took the next best option and asked Mark what was going on on campus, and they ended up at the door of Rho Theta at 11 p.m. 

Now, he downed a burning shot and willed the music to sound better, like he was wishing on a birthday cake instead of cheap tequila. It worked, more or less. His head bopped of its own accord as he took another shot off a passing tray. He stumbled over nothing and blinked. Maybe the cheap tequila was magic. 

“Whoa, there,” said an unfamiliar voice, and Jung Jaehyun appeared in front of him, hair slicked back and expression amused. 

“Hey, hyung!” Jeno said, the words chirpy and brash in his own head. “I hear you run this uh,” he waved his arms. “Fine establishment.”

The older boy laughed. “Jeno, isn’t it?” he pursed his lips slightly. “You alright there? You know that we aren’t allowed to kill freshmen with our alcohol.”

“He’s a sophomore, and he’s fine,” another voice said, swooping in and shooting an apologetic grin at Jaehyun. “I’ll make sure he stays safe,” 

“Ooh, Mark Lee,” Jaehyun mused. Everyone knew Mark, and Mark knew everyone. Jeno had figured that out pretty early on, but it never ceased to amaze. Mark was confident and smart, he carried himself in a way that was very unlike his annoying nerdy STEM peers. He could be a theatre student, with his grace and posture. But Jeno knew there was a different side of him, one that most people didn’t get to see. Shy and sleepy and teasing. Jaehyun spoke to him like he had no clue about this side, like outgoing Mark Lee was all he was.

It wasn’t a bad thing, of course. It was just something that made Jeno feel smug. 

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” Jaehyun said to Mark, shooting a wink at Jeno as he walked away.

They were silent for a moment, and then Jeno murmured, “he could like… get it.” 

Mark snorted, then stopped. “Hey man, you okay?” he asked, regarding Jeno with a mix of concern and amusement.

“Sure, yeah.” Jeno’s drunk mind found the question a little funny. Mark asked if he was okay as if he didn’t sleep three feet away from him and hear him crying every other night this past week. Jeno didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “I’ll be better once I get my next shot,” 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” his roommate asked apprehensively. 

Jeno swayed and laughed a little. It was the best idea. He grabbed Mark’s jacket sleeve. “Come on,” he whispered, urging, taunting. He leaned in close to Mark’s face. “You can do one with me.”

Mark flushed crimson, and Jeno felt a pang of satisfaction. Mark was an unabashed flirt with a lot of people, something Jeno teased him mercilessly about. But Jeno could be… what was the word - _coquettish_ \- too. They’d been living together for over a year, and Jeno happened to be an expert at reading people. It was a combination that made Jeno a pretty good scholar of all things Mark Lee. 

And so they drank, and they danced, and they did it again until the lights and music blurred into colours and Jeno wasn’t thinking about Jisung anymore. All he cared about was the lightness in his skull and the thumping of the bass and warm bodies dancing around him. 

One in particular. 

Kissing Mark was nothing like kissing Jisung. It was more frantic and more careless, full of heavy hands and clashing teeth and loud gasps. They were both wasted, and Mark pulled away at one point to apologise, but Jeno didn’t care - he only pulled him closer. He was caught up in the dance of their bodies and the lights, their mouths and the music. He didn’t even remember going back to their room and ending up in his tiny bed, he didn’t remember telling Mark to stop, and he didn’t remember falling asleep. 

Jeno woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. Mark was sitting on his own bed, staring at him ruefully. 

Wonderful. 

“Hey,” Jeno said, hoarsely, breaking the pregnant silence. 

“Um, hey.” Jeno winced at the forced casualness in Mark’s voice. For someone so popular, you’d think a fake cheery voice was a given, but Mark Lee was too damn sincere for his own good. “I just…” he started. We didn’t - in case you were wondering, we didn’t fully-” Jeno let out a groan, part embarrassed and part hungover, and Mark grimaced. 

“Yeah. Okay,” Jeno said swiftly. He patted Mark on the arm, and then he got up and took about an hour in the shower. 

Things with Mark were fine afterwards. If anything, their hookup gave Jeno a reason to pretend he had someone else to think about at night. There was a month and a half left until winter break, and Jeno had sworn off alcohol to study for exams, so he pretended to be the good student he’d been in high school. His days were filled with essays about the Ottoman Empire and intersectional feminism, with tests on Freud and Aristotle. He thought about kissing Mark again just because he could, but he would hate himself too much. If Mark was thinking the same, he didn’t bring it up. 

Winter break came much too soon, and not soon enough. This semester had been particularly brutal. Jeno desperately missed his mother’s hugs, palm trees, and his friends. (Not necessarily in that order.) As much as he dreaded seeing Jisung, he missed him too, like a phantom limb. He’d never appreciated California’s cool breeze this much.

He settled back into life at home like it was… well, _home._ The word had taken on a strange new meaning since he’d moved out, like he’d be betraying the city he’d now fallen in love with. New York had become home too, slowly but surely. And yet, this was what his blood sang to. Blue skies in mid December. Jeno lounged in his old bedroom until noon and ate his mother’s meals with very little grace or poise. He napped and read and helped his dad make coffee every evening. He thought about Jisung every day, but he managed a whole week without talking about it, until one evening he cracked and announced that he was going to the beach. Ignoring the knowing looks his parents exchanged, he left the house. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Jisung loved the beach. He was a swimmer. He was bad at surfing, but he did it anyway, which scared Jeno. Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, Jisung would tell him how the ocean called to him, how it meant hope and new beginnings. He’d get quiet, quieter than usual, and gaze at the horizon. Jeno would bump his shoulder and remind him that he was the pretentious one in the relationship. They even had their first official date on the beach, drinking capri suns and eating hot dogs, and later making out on the dunes until sand got in some… uncomfortable places. 

Now, walking towards the beach, Jeno didn’t know how he was so sure Jisung would be there. He could pretend it was just probability - the beach was very close to Jisung’s house, and he spent a lot of evenings there, even during the winters.. But it was more than that. It was a pull, like the moon’s on the tide. The salty breeze seemed to make itself visible just to curl into a pathway for Jeno to follow. 

Jeno’s hunch was right - as he approached, he saw that Jisung was on his favourite quiet stretch of the beach, far from the usual crowds of tourists. His hair was dyed silver, like it had been since the end of that summer.

_“So you’re winter boy, now,” Jeno laughed, touching the screen briefly while they video called._

Jeno blinked and walked slowly, reveling in the feeling of his bare toes sinking in the sand. His heart was pounding. The air was humming, it felt alive. When Jeno slowly sat next to him, Jisung didn’t look surprised. Maybe he felt it too. His hair was wet, like he’d just gone on a swim, and he shivered a little. Jeno shivered too, but it had nothing to do with the cold. 

“Hi,” Jisung said finally, softly, his eyes bright. Was he happy to see Jeno? Or were those tears of anger?

Jeno felt the overwhelming urge to do… something. It felt ridiculous. Did he really think he could get over this? He was so in love with Jisung that his chest ached. Electric kisses from Mark Lee didn’t change it, loud music and art didn’t change it, New York fucking City didn’t change it. And distance? Distance be damned. Jeno felt like he was in a trance. He felt himself leaning in, in, until Jisung pulled back at the last second, his eyes snapping away from Jeno and back to the sea. 

Jeno bit his lip to hold back a curse. _Stupid._ “Twenty questions,” he said instead, his voice strangled. 

Jisung’s voice sounded far away and broken when he replied, “I slept with Jaemin.” 

Static filled Jeno’s head. For one second, he wanted to say, ‘that’s not a question.’ The next second, he ran the words over in his mind, trying to find an angle where they made an ounce of sense. Their only real rule with twenty questions was that the other person would listen to the answer and ask another, or talk more. But now, before he could form the words to reply, his legs were moving. He was moving faster and faster until he was running. The sand burned his feet, but he kept running. 

He didn’t hang around to see Jisung reach out his arm, stand up and whisper his name and then call it louder until he was shouting, and then give up, catching his head in his arms. 

*** 

Jisung gave it more than a week before he made his way to Jeno’s house. 

He’d sabotaged himself, like the idiot he was. What was he thinking, that they were going to have a level-headed conversation about how Jisung slept with Jeno’s best friend to get over him? 

_Why does he even care,_ a part of him demanded. _He was the one who decided to give up on us._ Another part of him knew he’d just blurted it out because he couldn’t hide anything from Jeno. He never could. He’d cried for hours on the beach. Seeing Jeno after months was surreal. It felt like his skin was raw. When Jeno leaned down to kiss him, every pore in his body burned like he was being pushed into a star. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that. 

He visited Jaemin two days later. Jaemin let him in with a grim expression, and greeted Jisung with a squeeze on his shoulder. 

The air in Jaemin’s room was unfairly comfortable, despite everything. It had been months, but he should want to run out after what he’d done. He couldn’t, though. Jaemin was still his friend. A friend who indulged Jisung’s stupid, selfish choice. The truth was, Jisung thought a rebound would make it better, and Jaemin… well. He was a good friend. He was handsome and charming. It was just… easy.

They’d been at a house party that was almost more boring than being holed up at home, but Chenle had insisted that Jisung needed a night out after the breakup. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he’d been a wreck. Even his mother jumped to say yes when Chenle politely asked them if Jisung could spend the night at his house. 

_Jisung almost rolled his eyes at how easily she had bought the lie. He supposed there really wasn’t any need for them to worry. He wasn’t touching the alcohol, though he couldn’t say he didn’t consider it. Neither, it seemed, was Jaemin. He walked over to the pillar Jisung was leaning against and smiled softly, lifting his can of coke slightly. “I didn’t think I’d see you here,”_

_Jisung shrugged. “Chenle,” he offered as explanation._

_“So where’s he now?”_

_Jisung made a face and jerked his head towards the beer pong table where Chenle was getting trashed with his friends from the skate park._

_“Jocks,” Jaemin said, his tone disgusted. Jisung grinned. They were kidding - Jisung was glad at least one of them was having fun. He was relieved to see Jaemin, though. Being alone in a crowd was infinitely worse than being alone in his room._

_They ended up standing on the balcony, and Jaemin lit a cigarette, holding it between his long fingers._

_“Ugh, hyung,” Jisung made a face. “What the fuck?”_

_“Oh sorry - does it bother you?”_

_“Does it bother me that you wanna die at age 30 of lung cancer?”_

_Jaemin smiled indulgently, tapping the ash off the end. “Flirting with death is a hobby of mine, Jisungie.”_

_It would’ve been a lot more impressive if he didn’t cough after his first inhale of smoke._

_Jisung snorted. “Yeah, okay.”_

_The air was thick with the subject - Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. But neither of them brought it up. Jisung didn’t expect Jaemin to pick a side, and neither did Jeno, surely. Still… Jisung wanted to pretend for a night that Jaemin was just his friend and not Jeno’s._

_Jaemin looked contemplative, which was rare for him. The air was muggy, but he closed his eyes as he smoked, like the breeze was pleasant._

_“You gonna offer me a puff of that?” Jisung asked, mostly to break the silence._

_Jaemin gave him a scandalised look. “No! Absolutely not! You can’t flirt with death.”_

_Jisung smiled, his chest tugging with endearment. “Can I flirt with you?” he asked, the banter coming easy. Jaemin flirted with anything that moved, and Jisung enjoyed it immensely._

_Jaemin cocked his head to the side like a puppy. “Well damn, if you were planning on doing that I would have said something about how good you look about thirty minutes ago.” he tugged on Jisung’s jacket._

_Jisung stared. Jaemin looked good too. He always looked good, frustratingly so. (Except for in a few poorly-angled selfies, maybe.)_

_His chest felt ignited. He missed feeling wanted. He missed Jeno. But no - he pushed that name away, and the feelings that came with it. He leaned forward carefully. He was a little taller than Jaemin, something that always amazed him- Jaemin held himself with so much pride and glitter and volume. So unlike Jisung, who always felt like his own skin was ill-fitting. He kissed Jaemin, his hands shaking at his sides._

_Jaemin tasted like sugar. He pulled back carefully, his gaze unreadable. “Are you sure?” he asked._

_Jisung’s head was exploding with thoughts. He was doing this because it would help him forget Jeno. He was being an idiot. Was Jaemin pitying him? No. He could see that Jaemin wanted this too. Would this come back to bite him in the ass? Absolutely._

_He leaned forward again._

“He came to see me yesterday,” Jaemin murmured, sitting on the edge of his bed. 

Jisung hesitated. “Is he-”

“He…” Jaemin took a deep breath. “Well, he’s mad, understandably. I told him that it didn't mean an- I mean, that it wasn’t like _that._ ” he sighed. “Give it some time okay? I’m so sorry Jisung, really.”

Jisung shook his head and shoved his trembling fingers deep into his pockets. “We made a choice, and besides, it was me who wanted…” 

Jaemin shot him a look of concern, but what could either of them even do? Jisung’s chest felt like a puncture was expanding, into a tear and a hole and a chasm. 

Now, a week later, he was standing on Jeno’s porch, working up the nerve to knock on the door. He needed to say something, or he’d go mad. He ended up not needing to knock, because Jeno’s father spotted him through the window and opened the door, his usual gruff demeanor softening. Jisung wasn’t as close to him as he was to Jeno’s mother, but Mr. Lee was a kind man- the father figure Jisung had never really had. The thought that he’d hurt his son filled Jisung with shame. 

“Is Jeno in, Mr.Lee?” he asked hesitantly, bowing his head.

Mr. Lee looked surprised and concerned. “I’m sorry, son. Jeno went back to university early. Something about getting a head start on classes. I thought he told you.” 

Fuck. 

Jisung allowed himself a second to shut his eyes to make the world stop spinning, and then he opened them, thanked Mr.Lee, and left. 

The party he ended up at wasn’t the type he usually enjoyed. A louder version of the one he’d kissed Jaemin at, and if that wasn’t warning enough to go, nothing was. Jisung didn’t even drink, thanks to his dad, and he’d learned fast enough that you didn’t get very far in a high school party without alcohol. Today, however, wasn’t a day to be thinking straight. He rode his bike directly to whatever rich kid was throwing the party’s loft. He didn’t even know their name. 

Jaemin was the first person who caught his eye, thanks to the neon pink skirt he was wearing. He saw Jisung when he entered, but Jisung ignored his surprised look and disappeared into the crowd. He was in no mood for a lecture. 

The thumping music shook the floor in time to the beat of his heart and if he shut his eyes hard enough, it could drown out his thoughts. Someone offered him a beer, which he rejected. Someone else offered him a joint, which he took. He lingered at the table surrounded by giggling classmates to be polite, but eventually made his way to the balcony. He took a breath of the cool night air and lit his joint, tipping his head back. 

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice asked behind him. 

Jisung sighed, smoke curling in the air as he spoke, “It’s a party.” 

Jaemin glared at him, clearly unimpressed. “Jisung. What happened? Do we need to talk about Jen-” 

Jisung opened his eyes at that. “Really, hyung? You’re doing this to me while I’m getting high?”

Jaemin’s eyes flashed now, annoyance flaring into anger. “I think we need to, don’t you? And we can have the ‘since when do you fucking smoke weed’ talk later, or never, because maybe that isn’t my business, but-” 

“ _This_ isn’t your business either,” Jisung interrupted, gesturing at himself. 

Jaemin’s face went slack and Jisung immediately felt guilty. 

“Two of my best friends are hurting because of me, so yes it is my business,” his voice was raw. 

_Two of my best friends are hurting._ Jisung knew it was true. Jeno was hurt, how could he not be? And yet, right now, he felt hilariously alone and couldn’t help but feel like he was the only hurt one here. Jeno had run away, apparently adamant on being Jisung’s boy who got away for eternity. He’d run away and left Jisung to deal with his broken heart. And the worst part was that it was no one’s fault but his own. 

“He left,” Jisung said tonelessly, almost crushing the joint in between his fingers. “He went back to New York.” 

“Fuck,” Jaemin whispered.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, and I don’t want to talk about this, okay? I’m gonna get a drink.”

“A- a what? Jisung!” 

Jisung paused in the doorway, and gave Jaemin a small smile, “I’ll be fine, hyung. Jeno always told me I wasn’t my dad, anyway. Now he’s gone, and he’s all I had, so-”

“He’s not all you have,” Jaemin cut him off quietly. 

Jisung felt an apology burn his throat, and he closed his eyes. Then he turned away to look for the kitchen. 

***

When Jeno’s phone rang, it was 3:27 am. He was wrapped up in three blankets to battle the chill that defied the dorm’s shitty heater and closed windows. He was awake, because… well. He hadn’t been doing much sleeping lately. His decision to rush back to New York may have been cowardly, but at least he hurt less here. At least the pieces of his heart thumped in time to millions of others here. 

A part of him had known that Jisung would eventually call, and that part had sworn to ignore it. But now… even as his pride and the battered copy of Prisoner of Azkaban he’d cast aside urged him not to pick up, the fact that he was calling so late pushed Jeno over the edge. He was nothing if not a worrier. What if something had happened?  
Hating himself, he picked up without a word, and was greeted with, “hyuuung?” 

“Jisung. What’s-”

“I’m drmmk. Wait- drunk.” the booming in the back told Jeno that Jisung was at a party, but his chest lurched uncomfortably. He’d never heard Jisung drunk. He didn’t think he’d ever even been drunk. They’d sipped wine together at a Christmas dinner, once. This was different. 

“Hyung - Jeno - I fucked up so bad,” Jisung slurred. 

Jeno sat up now, his chest pounding uncomfortably. “Jisungie, where are you?”

“Someone’s house? It’s big. It doesn’t matter. I love youuu, you know. I’m sorry,” 

Tears filled in Jeno’s eyes embarrassingly fast, and before he even knew where he was going, his legs were moving. 

“Listen, are you safe? Are you-” 

“I’m such a fuck up, aren’t I? I mess things up. And now I've messed us up. I love you, okay? I-” 

His voice sounded far away and then another frantic voice came on. “Jeno? Jeno, is that you?”

Jeno felt like he’d swallowed a stone and it was forcing its way down his throat and into his stomach. “Jaem.” 

He’d gone to Jaemin’s house straight from the beach, with no plan of what to say. It had resulted in him trying to yell and giving up embarrassingly fast. Jaemin had taken it all quietly, which made everything worse. 

Now, there was a pause on the phone. “Listen I- Maybe we can talk about things later, but right now, Jisung-”

“What the hell did he have?” Jeno was heaving. He’d run down the empty corridor and paused against the staircase to breathe, lowering himself slowly and leaning against the wall. 

“He was smoking weed and then he just started drinking vodka, and- He only had a couple shots but his tolerance is probably shit since he doesn’t drink, and-”

“He was _crossing?_ God, since when does he even-”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Jeno,” Jaemin sounded dejected.

“Will everyone stop saying that?” Jeno murmured, suddenly inexplicably annoyed. 

“I-”

“You should’ve thought about being sorry before you fucking slept with him,” Jeno snapped. 

There was silence on the other end, and Jeno could almost feel Jaemin’s hurt from across the country. 

“Get him home safe,” he added, before hanging up.

The minute the call ended, Jeno’s anger left his body in a whoosh. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. Jisung’s broken I love yous echoed in his head, and so he curled up in the staircase and cried. 

*** 

_“Not like that,” Jeno laughed, and Jisung’s cheeks turned pink with indignation._

_“No, I think I’ve got it,” he replied, pressing down on the keys and letting out a long, off-tune note._

_The piano in Jeno’s living room was polished mahogany and well-loved. He’d been playing since elementary school - just another one of his many talents, just another line in his growing resume, just another reason for Jisung to be whipped for him. They’d been dating for three months now, but Jisung still woke with a thrill every day. He’d loved his best friend since he was a kid and now his best friend loved him back._

_Today, Jeno’s parents weren’t home, and Jeno had apparently decided a piano lesson date meant sitting beside Jisung on the velvet stool and mocking his failed C major chord._

_“Here,” Jeno said, visibly stifling another chuckle. He moved his hands on top of Jisung’s, moving the younger boy’s fingers onto the right keys. Pressing down on top of them, he played the chord, followed by another and another, until a cheerful melody floated through the air._

_Jisung turned slightly so he was watching Jeno, his face now pink for a reason that was no longer indignance._

_Jeno was so beautiful. Jisung had always thought so, and now he could watch Jeno as much as he liked. He could kiss the mole on his cheek. He could run his fingers through his blonde hair. He could lean against him until he played songs that lulled Jisung to sleep. Jisung knew this - these dates at home - weren’t forever. Jisung was starting to write his CV, organise his gradesheets, shortlist his list of colleges and universities. In a few months, he would be sending in applications._

_He was Lee Jeno, so of course he’d had his eye on the prize. New York City. They talked about it sometimes, Jeno leaving to study liberal arts there, and Jisung joining him in a couple of years. Sharing a tiny apartment. Getting a cat, maybe. Falling asleep to the lights and sounds of the city. Jisung thought about it so often. And yet, the more he thought of it, the more it felt like a faraway, untouchable dream. Jisung was scared. He never let the fear linger too long, though. For now, this was everything._

_Now, he curled his fingers slowly around Jeno’s, stopping his playing. Jeno turned his head to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark with intensity from playing, and a small smile played his lips. Jisung took a shallow breath and licked his lips unconsciously. He was still nervous, after all this time. Jeno smiled wider, like he noticed this. If only to block out his stupid teasing smile, Jisung leaned in and kissed Jeno._

_Jeno’s hands came up immediately to curl behind Jisung’s neck. When he pulled back for breath, his smile was gone._

_Jeno leaned forward again, and when he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, Jisung was suddenly very, very, aware that they were alone in the house._

_Jeno dragged his lips down to Jisung’s neck, and Jisung gasped, and then somehow he was half-standing, his back to the piano as Jeno ran his fingers down Jisung’s sides and up again. Jisung stumbled a little, falling backwards against the piano and letting out a cacophony of jumbled piano notes.They broke apart with a giggle and Jeno, without a second thought, grabbed Jisung’s waist and lifted him till he was sitting on the piano, his legs falling open. He smiled breathlessly and raised his eyebrows at Jeno.“We’re a goddamn cliche,” he said disapprovingly. He was supposed to be emo - he hated cliches. Or at least that was what he claimed. The truth was, his heart had lurched painfully when Jeno had lifted him, and it was taking a lot of mental effort not to swoon._

_“Okay, well, if you’re complaining, then-”_

_“Oh, shut up,” Jisung rolled his eyes, and effectively cut off Jeno’s sentence by tugging at his hair and kissing him again, and again, and again._

_Afterwards, they lay uncomfortably snuggled on the narrow living room couch, content to hold hands and breathe each other’s air until the sound of Jeno’s mom’s car sent them running up to the bedroom with piles of clothes in their hands._

_Jisung had left through the window, because they weren't technically allowed to be alone in the house since they’d gotten together. With the cool breeze in his hair and Jeno’s goodbye kiss still burning on his lips, he no longer remembered what he had to be scared about._

The memory faded as Jisung woke with a start, groaning immediately at the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. 

His first thought was, _“winter, my ass”_

His second thought was, _“Jeno”_

That was also his third thought, and the fourth, and every following one for that entire day. 

***

In all honesty, Jeno knew Mark Lee was the human embodiment of a bad idea. More specifically, _kissing_ Mark was a bad idea. And yet here Jeno was, pressing his lips against Mark’s against the pillows in his bed. 

There was chemistry between them, undeniably. Idly, Jeno allowed himself to think that perhaps someday in the future, they would actually work out as a couple. Or perhaps Jeno would look back on this and berate himself for his silly choices. Either way, for now, he really just wanted a warm body.

“So just to be clear,” Mark said breathlessly. “This is just happening because you need a rebound.”

Jeno had the grace to not lie. He said, “Sort of. It’s also because I think you’re pretty fucking hot, Mark Lee.” 

Mark seemed to find that to be a satisfactory answer, because he grinned slightly and pulled Jeno back down. 

As the spring semester progressed, Jeno found himself getting sucked back into academics and socialising. It was a welcome distraction, and he found that the more he talked to people in college, the more he withdrew from his friends and family back home. He hooked up to Mark a couple of times after, and it genuinely was not a big deal - that, or Jeno was in denial - but either way, things weren’t too weird with Mark. Jisung had not tried to call him since winter break, and Jaemin had tried thrice. Jeno did not pick up. 

Now, he sprawled on the floor of Donghyuck’s dorm room, pretending his brain was functioning well enough to pay attention to the gender studies lecture running on his laptop. Somewhere around the one hour mark, he gave up with a sigh, yanking his headphones off and stretching his legs out. 

“I feel you,” Donghyuck offered, his face scrunched in a frown. His notebook was thrown askew next to him, complicated notes covering the page. Jeno shuddered at the thought of being a music theory student. Playing one instrument casually was hard enough, and Donghyuck played four. Renjun had apparently given up long before either of them, their laptop hanging precariously off the bed they were passed out diagonally in.

Jeno smiled. Renjun was kind of adorable, even though he’d never tell them that. Donghyuck seemingly agreed, judging by how fondly he was staring at his passed out roommate. 

“Hey, Edward Cullen,” Jeno said quietly, remembering an old joke. 

“What?” Donghyuck started. A blush rose in his golden cheeks. “Oh. I wasn’t-” 

Jeno grinned wider, “It’s okay. You know pretty much everyone knows you’re whipped for Renjun.” 

“I’m sorry?” Donghyuck whispered furiously. “I’m not _whipped_ for them, we’re best friends and I just-” he caught himself when Jeno let out a giggle. “Oh, screw you. Let’s talk about _your_ love life instead. How’s the dreamboat?” 

“Mark? No, it’s not like that. We just hooked up a few times.” 

Donghyuck watched him carefully, eyebrows raised.

“What?” 

“You’re scared,” Donghyuck supplied. 

It wasn’t exactly a far leap, considering the fact that Jeno had told him what happened over winter break. Still, Jeno felt childishly stung. 

“Look, I get it,” Donghyuck said hurriedly. “I’m not saying you have to date Mark or anything. It can’t be easy moving on. I just think now that that’s all over, you owe it to yourself to get back out there and try again, you know?” 

_Now that it's all over._ Jeno stayed silent. 

Donghyuck’s expression turned incredulous. Why was this guy so good at reading him? Jeno felt partly warm and partly annoyed. 

“Jeno…” he began. “You did talk it out, didn’t you? With Jisung and Jaemin?”

Jeno stayed silent, which was answer enough for Donghyuck, apparently. 

“Jeno Lee! It’s been over two months!” 

“You don’t get it, it hurt like a bitch and-” 

“Jeno, come on. Of course I get that you’re hurt. But you have to talk to them eventually. You need closure at the very least.” 

Lee Donghyuck was popular for many reasons - he had soft auburn hair and eyes, legs for days, an immaculate resting bitch face, and a brain to die for. Notice that tact, subtlety and softness were not a part of that list. Still, Jeno was a little grateful for the tough love. He could not go on this way, holding hard bitterness in his chest and kissing someone else to melt it away.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Maybe if you tell Renjun your feelings for them.”

Jeno expected backlash, but Donghyuck was only silent for a long moment, stealing another glance at his sleeping roommate. “I’ll think about it,” he said, softly. 

Jeno decided he would think about it too. 

***

Jisung’s phone rang at dinnertime. His mother had a strict (and strictly annoying) no-phones-at-the-dinner policy, so she let out a displeased gasp when Jisung reached into his pocket to cut off the blaring ringtone of Twice’s new single. 

“Relax, Mom, I’m just checking it, I’m not gonna-” he fell silent when he saw the caller ID. 

Two months and one week of radio silence, and Jeno was calling him at 7 pm on a Wednesday night. Jisung didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry. Breathing would probably be a good start, his brain supplied. 

Ignoring his mother’s annoyed exclamation, “Jisung Park!,” he pushed his chair back and leaped up the stairs to his bedroom, answering the phone with his heart pounding. 

“Jeno,” he said breathlessly. 

There was a soft sigh on the other end. “Hey, Jisung.” 

“Um. Hi.” 

There was a pause. “Twenty questions.” 

Jisung’s chest felt like a balloon running out of air. “I’m sorry, Jeno.” he whispered. 

“That’s… not really a question,” Jeno replied, but he didn’t sound angry. _He didn’t sound angry._

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. It wasn’t about that.” 

Another pause. “I know.” 

“My turn,” Jeno added. “Are you feeling okay about… you were drunk that night.” 

Jisung had to hold back tears. He felt like a fool for it, but he didn’t feel worthy of Jeno’s concern. But that was Jeno. 

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “I’m sorry about that call. It wasn’t fair for me to- I didn’t drink again. I don’t think I will, for a while.” 

He didn’t have to elaborate. Jeno knew Jisung’s relationship with alcohol better than anyone else in the world. He knew Jisung better than anyone else in the world. A memory flashed through his mind like lightning.

_“You don’t ever have to do anything that doesn’t make you feel fucking amazing, Jisung. You should always feel fucking amazing. You’re fucking amazing.”_

_“God, stop saying ‘fucking’” Jisung replied, and then kissed him silly._

“Okay,” Jeno said now. 

“Okay,” Jisung echoed. 

There was a pause, less uncomfortable. For the first time in months, Jisung let himself breathe. 

***

Over the semester, they rebuilt a friendship. 

Well, ‘friendship’ may be an optimistic term. But it was something.

They sent memes to each other, discussed books they were reading, and shared the occasional Spotify track. Details about their actual lives were rare, but they slowly picked up those too. Jisung was stressing about applications and Jeno gave him advice. Jeno talked about his new elective and his friends. Jisung began to open up about finals terrifying him, but he wasn’t always negative. He made the clever jokes and dry observations Jeno had so missed. He was fun; this was fun. 

“What are you grinning at?” 

Jeno blinked, looking up from the TikTok Jisung had sent him with ten laughing cat emojis. “Hm? Nothing.” Mark regarded him skeptically. “You’ve been like, super stuck to your phone lately,” he mused. 

Jeno stared at his roommate. “I’m barely a year younger than you and you’re giving me a ‘kids these days’ lecture?” 

Mark scowled, flipping his freshly dyed pink hair out of his eyes. “Ha-ha. You know what I mean. Don’t deflect, Lee.” 

Jeno sighed and let his phone clatter onto his desk. He did know what Mark meant, but here’s the thing. Talking about Jisung with Mark was… complicated. He was the only one who’d seen firsthand how hurt Jeno had been during the decline of his relationship, and post-breakup. Add in all the kissing they’d done after, and… well. It was pretty fucking awkward. 

“We’re friends. Jisung and I. Or atleast, we’re trying.”

Mark frowned. “That’s… it’s good, Jeno. Why didn’t you feel like you could tell me?” He sounded hurt. 

Jeno hesitated. “I just thought you’d be… protective. Or-or hurt, I don’t know.” 

“Because I’m your rebound?” Mark said flatly. “What, you thought I’d get all jealous?” 

Jeno winced at the older boy’s tone. “No! Jesus, Mark, come on. Because you’re my friend.”

Mark gave Jeno a small smile. “Look, I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re worried about. That would be ridiculous. I know that we’re not...” he trailed off. 

Jeno saved him from finishing that sentence. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t think that badly of you. I was being stupid.” 

Mark snorted a little. “Good to know.” He paused. “Do you have feelings for him?” 

Jeno shut his eyes. Did he have feelings for Jisung? No, his brain said automatically, panicking. He wished he could just say that, a flat no, but he knew it would taste bitter. Like a lie. Because how could he dismiss it so easily? All his life, the strings of fate had intertwined Jeno with Jisung. They’d been inseparable at seven years old, and even more so at seventeen. Even when things had gotten much less simple. Jeno sometimes felt like he’d hit his peak at seven. How could he not have feelings for Jisung, even after everything? It scared the living shit out of him. He was nowhere near ready to go down that spiral, so again he whispered, “we’re friends.” 

Mark smiled sympathetically. Jeno felt raw and exposed - Mark had gotten too good at reading him. “So you said. Look, babe, I love you and I’ll support you no matter what, you know that. Just... be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Jeno muttered, even though both of them knew that wasn’t true. 

***

Spring semester betrayed Jisung. Finals stress was there every year, sure, but so was the ability to look forward to the coming months, as clear as the blue ocean. The inviting promise of summer, vacation, of rebirth. Right now, all Jisung could see was _terror._ There was no skateboarding through the semester that determines if you graduate, if you get into your choices for university, if you’ll _succeed in life._ (His math teacher’s words, not his. Jisung wished he could slap the man.) 

Rationally, he knew that high school wasn’t the end of the world, that one messed up final wouldn’t mean anything in the long run, that he could still pursue what he wanted. Unfortunately, being rational wasn’t really in the cards at the moment. Every second felt make-or-break. 

Speaking of being irrational - the current best thing in his life was reconnecting with Jeno. He knew firsthand that the both of them could get hurt if things escalated but… no. He wouldn’t let himself think further. Jeno and him were over, and this… being friends, it was perfectly fine. It was what Jeno wanted, and Jisung would do anything to make him happy. 

“Dude, I literally can’t do this bullshit” Chenle said, tossing his pencil onto the desk in resignation. They were sitting in a new cafe near school, thanks to Chenle’s idea that a change in scenery would transform them into geniuses who could do Chemistry worksheets without breaking down in tears. Two empty coffee mugs sat on the table, their contents making the boys shake their knees like there was no tomorrow. 

“Are you stuck on the fifth question too? I’m stuck on the fifth question.” 

Chenle gaped. “I’m on the _second,_ bitch gimme” he sputtered, dragging Jisung’s worksheet closer to him. 

Jisung opened his mouth to snap but he was cut off by his ringtone. Jeno’s name flashed on his screen, next to a blue heart. He had a full minute of internal debate before biting his lip,and picking up the call.

“Hey, stranger,” Jeno chirped. 

“Hey, sorry I’m - you guessed it- studying. Can I call you tonight?”

“Of course, I just saw something that reminded me of you.” He paused. “I was just playing this game - anyway, good luck. Don’t die.” 

Jisung sighed into the phone and resisted the urge to split his head open on the cafe table. He really hated school. 

Chenle looked up at the sound of the phone call, homework forgotten. “Jeno?” he asked carefully. 

Jisung nodded. “Why do you sound like that?” he added, when Chenle pursed his lips.

Chenle exhaled, wincing a little, pushing his homework aside. “Dude, I don’t know. Being friends with your ex is a slippery slope,” 

Jisung frowned, reaching for his second cup of coffee. “Hey, we’re not done with the worksheet yet. And... what do you mean?” 

Chenle’s shoulders tensed. “It’s just that I’m worried because he hurt you, Jisung,” he said, protectiveness creeping into his voice. Chenle wasn’t known for beating around the bush. 

Jisung shook his head, “And _I_ hurt _him_. But we’re healing. And it’s- it’s _Jeno_ ,” he finished lamely. He didn’t know how else to put it - it was Jeno. The boy who knew him better than he sometimes knew himself. The boy he’d had the nerve to touch his hand and not pull away. The boy who taught him how to love even when he couldn’t teach him to play the piano. The boy whose heartstrings knotted with Jisung’s own, forming a thread of lights. 

He blinked fast. “We’re just friends.” 

Chenle sighed. “I don’t think that’s true, Jisungie,” he said softly. 

Dread filled Jisung, and he wanted to run. Away from the worksheet, from school, from Chenle, from this conversation. Tears filled his eyes, because his body was a traitor. Chenle looked guilty, reaching out to touch Jisung’s hand.

“Jisung…”

“I- I can’t win him back yet,” he said, in lieu of direct admittance. Because the truth was this: Jisung couldn’t find it in himself to picture any version of the future where he and Jeno didn’t make up in the afterglow. 

“So after this worksheet, then?” Chenle asked, his eyes suddenly shining. Had he just wanted Jisung to admit it? Bitch. 

Jisung flipped him off and turned back to Chemistry. He tried to concentrate, but his veins buzzed. His fingers shook. His chest raced, like all the threads were pulling him Eastward. 

***

“So just to be clear… you’re forgiving me.” 

Jeno really needed to fix his laptop’s speakers. Jaemin’s voice was so garbled that Jeno could barely make out the disbelief colouring it. He also - were those _tears_ shining on his cheeks? On second thought, maybe the speakers were fine. 

“For the fourth time, Jaem, _yes_.” He was rolling his eyes, but he’d missed his best friend’s dramatics. There was no one quite like Jaemin Na. Not that he was planning on admitting it to Donghyuck, but his chest felt lighter than it had in months, after talking about things with Jisung and now Jaemin. 

The other boy peered at him tearfully, his fingers hovering over the computer screen like he could touch Jeno’s hair or flick his forehead like they were still in high school. Jeno missed it - missed _him_ \- like a lung. 

“I miss you, Jaem, and I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and you know maybe I didn’t even have a right to get mad in the first place but-”

“No, Jeno, you did-”

“Just” Jeno interrupted him. “Forget it, yeah? We’ll move on.” 

Jaemin still looked a little worried, but relief had flooded his face and shoulders. “I miss you too, darling. Jisung told me you called him. You guys are okay?”

“We’re… trying.” Jeno said. “You know, to be friends.”

“Friends.” Jaemin repeated, his voice flat. 

“Yes, friends!” Jeno said defensively. “What is with everybody? Friends is _good_.”

Jaemin shook his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Friends is good, yes! Friends are lovely. I love my friends. It’s nice to have a friend.” 

“Right…” Jeno said, ready to change the topic to quite literally anything else. 

“But of course,” Jaemin continued, “not when it's you and Jisung.” 

“Oh come on, Jaem. We’re not straight. I can be friends with my ex, you know.” 

Jaemin waved at the screen. “Oh, of course. Half my friends are my exes - or is it the other way around? Point is, it’s not about being friends with your ex.”

“Then _what_?” 

Jaemin sighed. “Jeno, I think you’re in love with that boy.” 

Jeno wanted to get angry. But apart from the fact that he was exhausted and done with being mad at his best friend… He didn’t really blame Jaemin for his deduction. No one knew him like Jaemin, other than Jisung himself. 

See, Jeno had never been too good at thinking with his mind. He thought with his heart, far too emotional for his own good. And his heart didn’t live with him. It hadn’t lived with him for a long time. 

Jaemin took his silence in without batting an eye, and like the wonderful person he was, he talked about his cats until Jeno had to go study. 

*** 

“This is batshit crazy,” Jisung hissed. Why him? How exactly did he manage to find the two most ridiculous friends in all of California? 

“Ah, but who can blame you darling?” Jaemin’s eyes glinted wickedly. “Love makes you crazy. If it doesn’t, you’re not doing it right,” he declared, bracelets clinking on his wrist to accentuate his dramatic flair. 

Jisung shook his head in disbelief and stared at the paper in his hands. A printout of a two-way airplane ticket to New York City. 

“My mother will kill me. She’ll kill _you_. God, she’ll kill me in front of you and _then_ kill you. Both of you.” 

“Better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” Chenle chimed in, looking unworried. 

They were standing in Jisung’s bedroom. He wasn’t technically allowed to have friends over on a Thursday evening a week before midterms. If Jisung wasn’t already freaking out about having people at his house, the reason for this particular visit sure as hell made him want to. 

“But… School-”

“It’s just for the weekend,” Chenle said, at the same time that Jaemin said, “fuck school.” 

Jisung stared. 

“Look. You’ve been stressed out. I know you have. And you- you love him, so you have to take your shot.”

Jisung shook his head again. “This is some rom-com shit. Guys, I can’t just-”

“Why not?” Jaemin demanded. “Chenle and I spent our entire monthly allowance on this damn ticket.”

Jisung felt a wave of guilt. “You’re right, sorry, thank you guys, seriously-” 

“Don’t thank us, idiot. Just… go.”

Jisung felt a pang of fear. “But...What if he doesn’t want me there?” he whispered. 

Jaemin’s gaze softened. He stepped forward and put his hands over Jisung’s cheeks, warming them. Jaemin was always warm. “He loves you. You just need to remind him.” 

Jisung glanced at Chenle, who smiled encouragingly. He felt himself flood with love for the other two. Before he could find a way to say it, Chenle said, “You’re coming over to my house after school for a “sleepover” tomorrow. To study, or whatever. Your flight’s at four.” 

Jisung took a deep breath and let Jaemin fold him into his arms. Chenle joined in, his body shaking with laughter. Jisung found himself laughing too. Silent fits of laughter that felt like great gulps of fresh air. 

“Go get him,” Jaemin whispered.

And so that’s how Jisung ended up trying not to have a panic attack in a shitty middle seat on a plane, his nerves on fire, a flame that was being tended by the fact that he was not only doing something ridiculous, but he was thirty thousand feet in the air. 

_“Twenty questions,” a quiet voice said, interrupting the sound of waves._

_Jisung sighed. “How did you know?”  
Jeno paused, sitting on the sand carefully. “My mom.” _

_Jisung felt a pang of guilt.  
Right. Jisung’s mother had spent most of the afternoon crying in her bedroom, and he’d left her. Grabbed his bike and refused to come back, only riding around town till the whole road to the beach had tasted his tires. What else had he expected her to do, if not call her best friend? _

_“I’ve got a question.” Jisung whispered, his eyes on the horizon. “Why?”_

_“Jisungie... I can’t answer that. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”_

_Of course he couldn’t. It was hardly Jeno’s fault that Jisung’s dad had had another ‘slip-up’. That’s what it always was, what they always called it. A slip-up. A mistake. A lie. An apology. Never major enough for the big words - yet another relapse, unforgivable, the final straw. Right now, that’s what it felt like. Jisung could empathise with the addict. He just wasn’t sure if he could forgive his father._

_Jeno broke the silence again. “I heard he’s trying rehab again. Good for him.”_

_Jisung laughed bitterly. “Good for him,” he echoed. Tears stung his eyes, salt water imitating the ocean. A cheap mockery, if you asked Jisung. The ocean was much better._

_Jeno took a deep breath, his fingers ghosting over Jisung’s shoulder._

_“Alright, my question. Who’s the new girl in your year? The one with blue hair.”_

_Jisung laughed at that. “I thought you were into that senior. Whatshisname. The one with the eyebrows.”_

_“Xiaojun,” Jeno said dreamily. “Ugh. I heard he’s moving back to China. The distance is too much.”_

_“Uh-huh. I think maybe it would work, hyung. You know, if he knew you existed.”_

_“Brat!” Jeno smacked his head, and Jisung let out an honest-to-god giggle._

_Jeno got up, dusting the sand off his pants. He offered a hand to Jisung._

_“Come on, we’re going home.”_

_Reality crept back coldly into Jisung’s head. Home. His parents._

_“I mean my house,” Jeno added quickly, like he could read Jisung’s mind._

_“I can’t-”_

_“My mom is at your place right now. She says you can sleepover with me. Don’t worry.”_

_That did it. A tear finally escaped, slipping down his cheek faster than he could raise his hand to wipe it away. So he let it be, and he took Jeno’s hand._

Jisung jolted awake at the sound of a high-pitched bell. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” a voice blared. “We will now begin our descent into New York City.” 

*** 

It was past midnight in New York and Jeno regretted the day he made friends with Lee Donghyuck. 

The boy was sprawled across Mark’s bed - left empty since Mark had gone home for the weekend - his deft fingers rolling a joint while Renjun made moony eyes at him from Jeno’s floor. 

“Remind me again why you can’t do this in your own room?” Jeno asked, shaking his head as Renjun offered him an already-lit joint. 

“I don’t want weed to spill on my silk sheets! They’re expensive,” Donghyuck said defensively. 

“What about theirs then?” Jeno jerked his head towards Renjun.

“Oh, because we use their bed for-” 

“Shut up!” Jeno screeched, clapping his hands over his ears. 

Renjun toppled over on the floor chortling. 

This is what he gets for encouraging Donghyuck to confess, really. All the same, he bit back a smile.

“Ugh, I am so ready for the weekend. I’m gonna _sleep_ ,” Donghyuck groaned, settling into Mark’s pillows. 

“This is why you do what I do- ignore work and sleep anyway,” Renjun declared sagely, tipping their head back to blow out smoke. 

“Fine arts majors,” Jeno tutted, reaching for the joint. 

Renjun liked to tease him about the fact that they had to teach _him_ , a born and bred Californian, how to smoke weed. Never mind that none of them even did it regularly (art school _was_ demanding, and all art kids _weren't_ stoners, both contrary to popular belief), but Jeno didn’t mind. Not when it meant nights like this, with his friends who were starry-eyed and golden in the lamplight.

His thoughts halted when Renjun pursed their lips at the dig at their major and said, with the wicked air of revenge, “hey Jeno, guess _why_ Hyuck hasn’t been getting enough sleep lately?” 

Jeno groaned. “You guys are the absolute _worst_ -” and like a miracle from the heavens, a knock on the door cut off the unsavoury topic. 

“Expecting company?” Donghyuck asked, looking surprised. 

“No,” Jeno frowned, getting up, gesturing at Renjun to hide the joint. 

When he opened the door, he took ten full seconds to reflect and wonder whether he’d smoked a hundred puffs instead of one. 

Park Jisung stood outside the room, backpack in his hand, pink in his cheeks, and fear in his eyes. 

“Hi,” he whispered. 

Jeno couldn’t find his voice. He was Ariel and a cruel witch had stolen it to stop him from being able to speak. 

“Oh fuck, you’re Jisung!” a voice chirped. 

“ _Hyuck_ ,” a quieter voice hissed. 

Jeno jolted when Renjun poked at his waist, cold finger jabbing at the skin exposed by his crop top. Maybe they were Ursula, because Jeno managed a shaky. “Y-you’re _here_ ,” 

“Surprise,” Jisung said weakly, still quiet. Shy. 

Jeno opened his mouth and closed it again, and then he stumbled forward and pulled Jisung into a hug, his eyes fluttering shut and his pulse racing. Jisung hugged him back, his arms rising immediately to Jeno’s neck, pulling him closer. They clung to each other like they hadn’t in forever- hadn’t had the _luxury_ to in forever. Jeno felt like he’d found the light at the end of a tunnel. Driftwood after a shipwreck. It felt like they’d never been apart, like Jeno had never lost him. 

Jeno pulled back carefully. “You’re here,” he exhaled again.

Jisung smiled, his eyes half-moon crescents. Then he looked tentatively over Jeno’s shoulders, cheeks flushed. Jeno turned to see Donghyuck and Renjun standing with identical expressions of curiosity. 

“Guys, this is- well, you know. Jisung, this is Donghyuck and Renjun, my friends.”

Jisung nodded. “He’s mentioned you guys a lot.”

“Really?” Donghyuck drawled, and Renjun elbowed him. “Come in, Jisung!”

Jisung nodded slightly, walking in and sitting on Jeno’s bed awkwardly. 

Jeno felt delirious. A part of him almost felt disappointed - this was not how he’d pictured Jisung visiting him in New York, or how he’d pictured him in his bed. Another part of him was euphoric, riding a high better than any drug could give him. Jisung was here. _‘We’re just friends’_ , he’d said to Donghyuck. He wanted to laugh at himself. He wanted to burst into song and dance. 

“Do you want us to leave?” Renjun asked, gaze flitting in between Jeno and Jisung. 

Jisung shook his head. “No! No, I didn’t mean to interrupt-” 

“Renjun smiled. “You literally flew across the country to see your... friend.” 

Jisung smiled shyly. “Still, you can stay.” 

Donghyuck shrugged. “Do you want some weed?” 

“Okay!” interrupted Jeno. “That’s enough bonding. Jisungie, do you want to talk outside?” 

Jisung looked hesitant but he nodded. 

“You guys can stay,” he said to his friends. “Just please don’t do anything in my Christian bed.”

Donghyuck looked like he had a lot to say about what went on in Jeno’s Christian bed, but Renjun silenced him with a look before singing, “no promises.” 

Jeno didn’t even care. He couldn’t stop looking at Jisung as the boy grinned and walked out the room, glancing over his shoulder to ask Jeno to lead. 

They went up to the roof. Jeno was obsessed with the view, even over a year later. Everyone talked big about New York City, how it was the only city ever, how the city lights changed your life. How dreamers and lovers fit in, and so did the broken hearts and torn souls. How many songs were written about this place? How many plays, poems, novels? Jeno believed them. He believed it all. His dorm building overlooked streets with apartments, high rises that tried valiantly to block the sky but never could. In the distance, the East river gleamed under pink and blue and gold lights. It was a view he had taken more than enough pictures of, some for his instagram and most for his text chain with Jisung. 

He could tell Jisung recognised it, because his steps slowed as he reached for the cold railing, blinking like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Eight hours ago, I was on my way to Chenle’s from school,” he said, his voice shaky.

Jeno smiled, tilting his head. “Welcome to New York,” he said quietly. 

He walked closer to Jisung, his heart thundering over the sound of traffic. 

“Twenty questions?” he asked, unable to keep the undertone of desperation out of his voice. _Why are you here? Do you miss me? I miss you._

Jisung kept his eyes fixed on the building across as he took in a slow breath. Then, slowly, he shook his head. “Not this time,” he said. “I have to be... confident.” 

Jeno waited. He noticed Jisung’s fingers shaking. 

“I’m in love with you, Jeno hyung.” 

And there it was, as simple as a smile. Lighting was in Jisung’s gaze, loud and bright. Terrifying and magical. 

“I miss you,” he continued, voice raw. “And I don’t just- I don't want you like a best friend.” 

Jeno shook his head involuntarily, but he contradicted himself, stepping closer instead of away. 

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered. 

Jisung let out a strangled laugh. “What gave it away? The fact that I flew here, or the fact that I’m even saying this?”

Jeno shook his head again, amazed. “Both,” he said, and then he leaned in and kissed Jisung. 

Jisung exhaled into Jeno’s mouth, his hands entwining in Jeno’s hair and pulling him in closer. He kissed him with fervour, like he was saying a prayer. Jeno had never tasted anything so sweet. 

Jeno pulled back for a breath and whispered it back, “I love you too,” and then Jisung kissed him again instead of responding, until his vision was filled with stars. 

When Jeno pulled away again, Jisung let him. “That was… not what I expected.” 

“Because you’re an idiot,” Jeno repeated, disgusted at his own voice, brimming with fondness. 

“I’m applying to an internship here. In New York. I was going to tell you, but then I thought it would be unfair, and…” 

“Oh my god,” Jeno said softly. “The dance one? The one with the cool name.”

Jisung nodded. “Neozone Academy. It’s just an application, I still need to ask my mom if she’s okay with me taking a gap year before college, and I probably won’t even get in, so-”

“Of course you’ll get in.” Jeno said firmly, splitting into a grin. “Jisungie - wow.”

Jisung smiled tentatively. “I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even Chenle. But I’m gonna apply, and if I get in…”

“You’ll be here.” Jeno finished softly. 

“I’ll be here,” Jisung echoed. 

Jeno stepped forward again and hugged him, feeling like he was holding an entire galaxy in his arms. They fit like puzzle pieces. It didn’t feel real. It also, he thought, didn’t matter. It didn’t matter where Jisung was, or where he ended up. He was Jeno’s answer. His home, his heart. He wanted to try again, more than anything. 

“We can talk more tomorrow,” he said, noticing how tired the younger boy was when Jisung yawned against his shoulder, his eyes drooping. “Want to go back down to my stupid friends?” 

Jisung managed a tired smile. “Will you kiss me in front of them?”

Jeno pressed his lips to Jisung’s swiftly. “I’ll kiss you anywhere, Jisung Park.” 

There would be more to talk about in the morning. But as they walked down the stairs, Jeno heard Jaemin’s voice in his head. _It’s nice to have a friend, but not with you and Jisung._ In the near distance, music paused as college kids got ready for bed. Jeno thought if he concentrated he could hear his heartbeat dance with Jisung’s. Jeno smiled, and took Jisung’s hand, and he didn't let go. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> special prize for anyone who can catch all 243889895335949 taylor swift references in this fic
> 
> come say hi on twt! <3 [https://twitter.com/jaemininskirts](url)


End file.
